


Harley Quinn's Eulogy

by Zighana



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Cult
Genre: Character Turned Into a Ghost, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Harley Quinn Syndrome, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internal Monologue, Meadow's POV, Meadow's Side Of The Story, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sex, Toxic Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 00:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12332301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zighana/pseuds/Zighana
Summary: Meadow reflects on her final hours as she waits to enter the Gates of Hell





	Harley Quinn's Eulogy

Do I have any regrets?

Probably I won’t get to fuck Kai one more time, or I won’t get to finish watching the Real Housewives with a glass of wine on the weekdays. I could say that I regret not being able to spend time with my bestie Harrison, but, in all honesty, Harrison can go choke on that Detective’s shriveled up cock and his ugly bleached white hair that somehow seems to work for him.

I regret taking part in causing this chaos and mayhem for this woman who had done nothing wrong. Her only wrongdoing was being married to that vindictive bitch who wears striped sweaters (I hate that about Ivy). 

I regret, most of all, being a pawn for this blue-haired, heartless, manipulative, sack of shit that I found myself falling for.

I made his costumes, I killed innocent people, I took part in terrorizing this woman whom I hardly even knew until now. And…this.

Me, standing over my body that someone callously threw a sheet over. Like I’m old furniture that’s getting ready to be thrown out. Like I’m trash. Like I’m someone that didn’t do an act of the ultimate sacrifice for the one I love.

Ally is going to jail for what I did; I don’t know how to feel, but I don’t feel guilty. Not at all. I’m more angry than guilty. 

A comic book flies in the breeze; it’s a Batman one, with Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy gracing the cover. I used to adore those women when I was a kid.

I’d seen the animated Batman series like everyone else; I had fallen in love with Harleen Quinzel’s transformation into Harley Quinn. I, like everyone else, shook my head when Harley, after losing everything, after nearly losing her life, lying in a hospital bed bandaged and had an epiphany of doing better, falling for the man that put her there once more with a half-assed note and a rose.

Joker didn’t care about Harley; he never did. If anything, Harley was his personal punching bag, his devoted sidekick that he abused, belittled, and never respected and yet like a fool, she kept running back to him out of a sick sense of love. I called her stupid; I was outraged that she kept crawling back to this maniac who wouldn’t shed a tear if she was gone.

I now understand why Harley kept coming back. 

I was in her shoes, and it cost me my life.

I was the Harley to Kai’s Joker; I was devoted to a fault for him, I’d give him the skin off my back if he asked. I went to a life of crime just so he’d notice me and love me. I was Harley, then; a bad girl who fell for the bad boy and took on the world to watch it burn in chaos and mayhem. I was Harley, then; even my costume screamed it while Kai, in his stringy blue hair, greeted me with a passionate kiss after I’d slit the throat of his competition. It’s like getting Heath Ledger in your sheets; I was on a high that I never wanted to come down from.

I wanted him to be the Clyde to my Bonnie; we could’ve traveled the road together spreading the word of his gospel with me as his right hand. 

Nothing in the world mattered other than me and my Joker.

When he fucked me, it was like finally, he understood my devotion and my love to him and he’d reciprocate. He would give me the love and affection I deserve. I imagined us getting married, him beaming with pride as finally, my womb would swell with our child. When he came inside of me, I was filled with so much joy I could cry.

“Kill yourself for me.” He whispered in my ear, and that joy died.

“Hey,” he grabs my chin gently.

“You love me, don’t you?”

I did. 

Oh, God, I did. 

“Yes,” 

I wish Ally would’ve just left. Packed her bags and abandon her life in this town. Ozzy isn’t worth it, but then again, I’ve never been a mother so I wouldn’t understand. 

I should’ve left.

When I saw Harrison dismember that man in our bathtub while that scrawny fuck coached him, I should’ve left. Closed the door, ran, hopped in my car and drove as far as a half-empty tank could take me. I would’ve called my mother then, moved to somewhere like…Canada where I could restart my life without that asshole that had the nerve to call himself my friend.

I would’ve started a career designing; make a name for myself and not let Harrison hold me back. I could’ve been touring galas in Paris, catwalks in Milan, slept in the finest sheets that Versace could offer.

The CSI are gone, and so is my body; it’s just me, now. Me and the ghost of what should’ve been a successful campaign. 

I believe that when you die, you go to either Heaven or Hell. I’ve sinned too many times for entrance to Heaven; I’m ready to burn in eternal damnation for my sins. I’ve lied, I’ve stole, I’ve murdered, and I’ve also taken my own life to frame an innocent woman. 

Hopefully it’ll fall apart; there had been some witnesses I’ve spared to refute those claims. But, I know Kai; he got this whole town under his spell. He molds the sheep into whatever he feels like for that day and anyone who opposed him would mysteriously die; you’d think somebody would connect the dots. But this town is full of idiots and he knows this; I was one of them.

I pick up that comic book; in this issue Harley Quinn, despite Poison Ivy’s insistence, comes back to the Joker and says a one-liner about love hurting.

My nails dig into the paper, ready to tear that piece of shit into scraps.

Love.

Love…

I died for that 4-letter lie.

 

I left behind no children, no husband, not even a dog. Kai didn’t even have the decency to come to my funeral; he waited days after the service was over to come to my tombstone and leave a rose. A fucking rose, as if he couldn’t disrespect me enough. 

I spat on that rose.

I waited for what felt like weeks until some strange man appeared and touched my shoulder.

“Meadow, you time has come.”

“I’ve been waiting,” I reply.

“Your sins are heresy, murder…”

“I know what my sins are.”

“Any regrets before I take you to Hell?”

“Yeah,” I look back at the rose and look back at him.

“I regret not shooting Kai Anderson in the heart when I had the chance.”


End file.
